


The Fat Hobbit

by S_EER (Fritiriel)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Absolute AU, Established Relationship, Exercises in vocabulary, Fond insults, Hobbit Maternity Breeches, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:45:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fritiriel/pseuds/S_EER
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A size bigger...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fat Hobbit

‘You’re going to have to face up to it, Sean!’ There’s a smile in Elijah’s voice.

‘To what?’

‘Look at yourself!’

Sean doesn’t need to look in the mirror. He _knows_ what he looks like. He knows that in fulfilling Peter’s need for Sam to be The Fat Hobbit, he’s damn near destroyed his own body image. Nevertheless, Elijah said to look, so he stands and looks. His belly is definitely still expanding. Maybe he’s even triggered some hormonal thing, and he’s just going to go on getting bigger and fatter until eventually they’ll have to remove the window frames, and use a crane to haul him out? _Cut the melodrama, Astin, it’s just—_

He shuffles to stand sideways—yup, that’s some gut, now. But Elijah doesn’t usually rag him about it. He’s always said that he likes it—and anyway it’s all _his—_

But Elijah slithers against him from behind, and Sean’s brain ceases to worry about details as it struggles with the conflicting images in the mirror, the sensation familiar but always new: Elijah flowing like warm cream over his golden tan, wiry muscle marble-firm against his own flabby pudge—and Elijah’s eyes dancing blue flames of desire that flicker wild across his skin.

‘Pretty soon—’ Elijah’s words waft warm and damp into Sean’s ear as he drapes himself closer, his hands scarcely managing to meet over the apex of that belly. The shamelessly pleading moan is not, in fact, Sean’s most physical reaction to the whisper.

‘No, _very_ soon is better,’ Sean contradicts, trying to pull Elijah over to the bed with him.

‘Pushy, authoritarian bastard!’ Elijah’s left hand drifts high, gives a careless brush to one nipple in passing to the other. 

‘Dilatory upstart brat!’ Sean draws a sharp breath. Casual but devastating, the right hand brushes too, slipping lower to teasingly part coarse curls, but never quite touch flesh. Sean’s cock bobs hopefully as Elijah undulates hard and hot at his back.

‘Erogenous zones are so _individual!_ ’ Elijah whispers, lavishing hot breath and a trail of wet tongue along Sean’s spine, spawning goosebumps on the goosebumps, trying for the fine precision with which Sean panders to _his_ —he thinks he may be succeeding when Sean shudders and gasps his name. But no matter how hard he tries, no matter what Sean tells him, Elijah can never quite believe he gives anything quite as good as he gets. ‘You’re very good for my—vocabulary, you know!’

‘That _all_ I’m good for?’ 

‘No, you’re good at fishing for compliments, too, and don’t interrupt! Where was I?’ Sean tries to show him, but Elijah isn’t done teasing yet. 

‘Impatient domineering obsessive!’ He saunters his fingers in a slow and loving pathway across Sean’s belly, savoring the ripple beneath his gentle stroking.

'Procrastinating infantile cocktease with delusions of topness!’

‘Just who’s taking who here, fucker?’ Elijah asks, quite reasonably in the circumstances.

‘And whose fault is that?’ Also a reasonable question. In the circumstances.

‘Point taken!’

A whining groan proves it is not the taking of _points_ Sean has on his mind. 

He finally gets Elijah to their bed, pulls him downward. Always, since he's grown quite so big, he’s very careful to not lie even half on Elijah, though Elijah has always said he loves to feel buried by Sean even as Sean’s buried within him. But these days Elijah seems to _prefer_ spooning him like this.

‘My vocabulary, yes. Slipped a bit there, though. ‘Fuck' is such a boring epithet after a while.’ His fingers have taken up their caressing again, now they’re settled together; possessively seductive circles, but still definitely just passing by where Sean wants to be touched but won’t ask, not yet.

‘Yeah, ‘fucking’ _does_ get boring after a while!’

‘Reeeeeally?’ Elijah’s drawl skitters a challenge over Sean’s skin. 

‘We don’t _just_ fuck, that often,’ Sean says, defensively. 

And it’s true no-one could ever call their long slow nights of love-making mere _fucking_ ; those nights when Elijah loses himself in his own body, beneath Sean’s large and deceptively skillful hands; when he tries to match Sean’s expertise with his own improvised cherishing, with all the tenderness he can put into his fingers. 

‘Complaining? Jeez, I’d’ve thought—’ Elijah’s hand has stopped listening to the part of his mind that’s still trying to tease Sean to desperation. On its own, it seems, it’s decided there are places it would rather be, things it would much rather be doing.

‘Ha! You can just barely keep up with me, and you know it!’ Sean’s boast is dragged out of him on sucking breaths, as that hand sweeps down and between and Elijah realizes it was right all along.

‘Yeah, well, having your brains fucked out on a regular basis slows you down a bit when you’re almost twenty!’ Mind and hand in complete agreement now, he’s stroking behind Sean’s balls, and reveling in the tension he can feel winding all through Sean. His own cock is weeping its impatience, but it’ll just have to wait...

‘Whereas by my advanced age a man has learned to pace himself—’ The ragged edge to his voice shows Sean’s pretty much come to the end of his pacing, here, and Elijah loves that he can do this to him. 

‘That _all_ he’s learned to do to himself?’ Elijah’s fingers circle and tempt, dancing an ache into Sean’s ass for the feel of Elijah inside him.

‘Provoking, seductive, tantalizing…’ Sean fumbles desperately under the pillow.

‘Paternalistic—’

‘Lij, isn’t that just a little disturbing, considering our current situation?’ He can say it even while he’s shoving the lube blindly into Elijah’s hand. 

‘In a rush for something, Sean-love?’ He warms the lube just a little in his palm, first.

‘Not so’s you’d notice.’ Sean tries to make it a throwaway line, but the eager whimper betrays him as Elijah’s fingers curl unerringly against this place inside Sean didn’t even know he had until Elijah showed him and he nearly hit the ceiling. He’s been something of an addict ever since—PJ’s Frodo and his Precious have nothing on Sean and his prostate when _his_ Frodo’s doing the tending.

Elijah slathers lube everywhere; got to make this smooth and easy and no way does he want to— _Shit_! Sean’s impatient wriggle nearly undoes him, and he has to draw back a little, take a few deep breaths and give himself a sharp squeeze. No telling how often they’ll get to enjoy this in the near future, no sense wasting the chance now.

In control once more, he pushes forward, groaning at how good even the slightest pressure feels when he’s wound them both this tight, and then he’s sliding, just an inch or so, inside Sean. He stops, waiting for Sean to relax and squirm for more.

Elijah drags himself closer then, his fingers digging into the flesh over Sean’s hips, leaving red indents even without nails to scratch with. Slowly, inexorably he slips further and further into Sean’s body, as Sean pants and shakes, until Elijah thinks he’s in as far as he should go. He reaches round and lays his hand possessively on Sean’s belly. ‘Alright?’ he whispers.

‘Doesn’t even begin to cover it!’ Sean says hoarsely, and moans as Elijah withdraws a little then presses in once more, settling into a gentle push/pull that’s as arousing in its own way as the noisy slap of flesh they know so well. He alternates deeper strokes with shallow, never going beyond the cautious limit he has set himself, needing this to be good for Sean, for them. He trails his fingers over the rounded swell, seeking Sean’s cock at last in this firm hold, working him as he would himself, so he’s almost feeling what Sean feels, jerked and twisted within his grasp, knows that tease of fingers at the slit even while he’s buried inside Sean. 

They slide together, higher and faster and nearer, as Sean clenches tight around him to the rhythm of his careful, measured strokes. He scatters loving kisses over Sean’s shoulders, in the crook of his neck, wherever he can reach, then bites down sharply, in sudden reflex, as Sean tenses and says ‘Elijah?’ almost disbelieving. He stretches the name into a whistle of breath that pitches high as he comes into Elijah’s hand, and Elijah strains to keep control as he pours himself into Sean. 

He mouths over Sean’s neck all the sweet words he can never bring himself to say out loud because he’d feel stupid. And this is even more stupid because they’re mostly the same words Sean uses to him and when Sean says them Elijah just melts; he feels loved and cherished and so very lucky to have this man say—and mean—them for him. But Sean feels them now, he understands; he hears this vocabulary of lips, the words that flavor the warm breath and sweeten the kisses—and he knows how very much he is beloved.

Elijah pulls away gently, and leans to kiss Sean as he rolls onto his back; he can’t help his worried frown as he asks, ‘Are you ok?’

‘So very ok!’ He smiles up at Elijah’s concern and adds, ‘We’re fine—no worries, love, not yet.’

Elijah slides his hand down Sean’s belly again, but his circles are pure tenderness and possession now. ‘Like I was saying—pretty soon, we’re going to have to get you some Hobbit Maternity Breeches. 

‘And soon after that,’ he says proudly, ‘ _I_ shall be a daddy!’ 

 

[](http://www.statcounter.com/)  
Valentine’s Day 2005


End file.
